WAKE
by Ohsweeeet
Summary: It was all about saving eachother, giving one the reason to fly--the reason to smile. The war is over, 7th year was that year; the year Harry, Hermoine and Ron would be able to live freely. If anything, the time to be able to fly. HG/RW. HP/GW
1. PROLOGUE

**WAKE.**

**PROLOGUE.   
**

Things are, normal. Natural. And easy. Breathing had never seemed so inviting to Harry James Potter as it did now. Now—this moment, with the sun gradually dipping behind the mountains that were by the horizon of the Weasley residence, everything felt right. He felt weightless. It was unreal, an unfamiliar feeling. Afraid as he was he allowed himself to savor the feeling. To savor every single bit of the freedom he had. Away from a war, away from the complications—all just to be here.

A celebration broke out behind him; the backyard of the Weasley's was crowded, wrapped around lights that swirled above them. The lights varied in many colors, amazing colors that began to fight with the sky's own light—although dimming, it was beautiful. His eyes closed as he listened to the laughter and the music blending together. The celebration felt right, because it was real. It wasn't a false celebration. It was loud, bright and ready to be seen.

For the first time in his life nothing was hidden. The weightless feeling didn't feel right to give into. As if it was just a trick his mind was playing on him before he was pushed into Hogwarts and then—put into another war, to save his life; loved ones and the _world_. It's a pressuring feeling. Quickly to stain on his heart and course his veins.

"Harry," Ronald Bilius Weasley's voice was easily recognized, Harry turned to face his red-headed friend. His tall body was covered in ashes—his nose with a spec of dirt. His blue eyes stared down at Harry, unhappy.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked with laughter being hidden.

"Hermione sent muggle fireworks," Ron brushed his chest rapidly, "I stood right underneath, firing it the way the manual suggest and it just…poofed. Exploded upwards with loads of bloody ashes."

"Would you like me to—," Harry slipped his wand in his hand and raised it at Ron.

"Please," Ron sighed, "Foul git George is, he tackled me to the ground. I've probably got dirt all over my face."

Harry nodded and raised his wand, with a flick and a simple thought, the ashes and dirt seemed to fly away from Ron and blow off into the wind. The corners of his mouth twitched as he thanks Harry with a nod. Standing side by side they turned and watched the lights that hovered over the Weasley's backyard.

"Ready for another school year, mate?" Harry asked Ron, his eyes beaming.

"Actually, yes," Ron nodded, "The first sane school year—that's exciting."

Harry looked at him with disbelief in his eyes.

"Well," Ron laughed, "I reckon it's going to go smoother than the last 6 years."

The two stood there, staring and watching as the other celebrated. Loudly, with different lights going off in the air. Their thoughts seemed to close up their throats, restricting them to talk, seeing as though talking about anything else but the peace they had now—seemed to be pointless.


	2. Chapter one

thank you forr favoriting / story alerting : ) & forr the review as well. keep reading !

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******[ Chapter one. ]  
**

Ron stood tall, on the platform of nine and three quarters, hands in his pockets whistling as other students and their parents passed him. The train was steaming, the steam flowing in the air passing him in different directions. He looked down as he tapped his right foot, anticipating. He could feel his stomach slowly tighten as people began to rush into the Hogwarts Express. His chest met with his heart within every beat, it was as if The Dark Lord was spoken of all over again.

And yet, it wasn't. He stood there waiting for Hermione Jean Granger. He pictured her everywhere on the platform. Each female brunette he had hoped it was her. He had his fingers crossed and his eyes focused both behind and in front of him. It was her, that helped Harry and Ron defeat Voldermort. It was her that excelled in every class, preformed every perfect spell, and spoke every word beautifully. It was her that read him certain sentences he couldn't understand—spoke slowly, softly and patiently. It was her he dreamed of.

He took a slow breath and tried to think lightly of her. He feared thinking of her too much might heavy his heart. It might deepen his emotions for her. There wasn't much to pit him against thinking about her—although all those years she excelled above him causing envy and slight hatred towards her seemed to be the first thought of anything he had not like about her. Useful as it was, it caused a jealousy in his core.

However he was older now. Stronger. Mature. He put his jealousy aside; growing to accept Hermione's skills—to admire her for it. To love her for it—_as a friend,_ he reminded himself. He's seen death, he's escaped death, and Hermione was the one to help him through it. Hermione and Harry. They were without a doubt the best people he's ever met.

"Oi," Ron turned to the sudden voice, Neville Longbottom waved, "What're you waiting for?"

"Hermione," Ron said over the crowd, "Any chance you saw her Neville?"

"No, sorry," Neville moved closer to Ron, "Has she written you this summer?"

"Once," Ron stated, "July 4th."

"Got the date down and everything," Neville teased.

Ron ears went slightly pink, "Well, I haven't heard from her since, hoping I'd see her today."

"She alright?" Neville asked, "I've tried writing her a few times but the owl would come back with the letter. I was hoping she's doing well."

"I'm sure she is," Ron said—more to comfort himself than Neville, "She's tough."

_"All aboard!"_

"Already?" Ron turned, his eyes frantically looking for his friend, his body trying to stay calm and still.

"C'mon," Neville pushed Ron toward the train, "Knowing her, she probably was the first to get in."

"But…" Ron's voice trailed.

_"All aboard the Hogwarts Express!"_

"C'mon mate," Neville urged Ron, "Really Ron, let's not miss the train."

The platform was beginning to clear out, all left was parents and younger children watching their siblings leave. He shook his head and followed Neville through the doors and into the train. He waited by a window as Neville walked forward, looking for a booth to sit in. Ron's blue eyes scanned the crowd as the train howled and began to move. An empty feeling washed over him. Quickly he ignored it.

He walked behind the sweet trolley, the aroma of candy slowly wafting into his nose. The trolley would stop every five seconds, slowly making him impatient. He breathed in and out, his eyes glancing quickly though the glass of each booth. In every booth he spotted at least one member of the DA. It made him proud to be a part of such a group.

The trolley stopped and he could feel his nerves jerk.

"Two cauldron cakes, a licorice wand and a chocolate frog please."

Ron stopped.

"Have you got some change?"

Soft voice. Curly brown hair. Fair peachy skin. The small tipped nose and the naturally pursed lips. He needed to speak. He needed to move. He ordered his body to speak, to broaden his vocabulary and _speak_.

"Oh, thank you."

The trolley moved and he stood still.

"Ron."

"Hermione," he squeaked, embarrassed by the way her name slipped his lips. His eyes scanned her body, the way her jeans fit snugly and her top flowed off her shoulders. It was months since he's last saw her and all he could find himself to do was stare.

"Are you coming in?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, right."

The two entered their booth. Alone, they were. They sat across from each other, their eyes to the window. Hermione pulled her hands over her sweets, staring down at it and stealing a glance at Ron. His red hair had grown longer, framing his jaw line—his lips were slightly parted and moving, as if he was trying to speak. She smiled softly and stared back down at her sweets.

"Where were you?" He asked in an undertone, his eyes still to the window.

"Australia," she said.

"Why didn't you write back?" His voice cracked a bit.

She didn't answer and he spoke again, "I know you've gotten my letters Hermione." He sighed as she began to open her cakes. Her lips parted and slowly she bit into it, chewing slightly as she looked out the window. She was avoiding Ron. The seconds began to pass and he could feel his patience run low.

"Hermione?" His voice was soft but strong, "Answer me."

"I'm sorry," she said, turning to him, "I just didn't…think. I wasn't very comfortable talking to anyone after…everything, you know?"

The tone in her voice alarmed him. She genuinely didn't want to talk about it. He could feel her make excuses in her head—stress, maybe—and shy away from Ron. He didn't want to push her away and trusted when she was ready to speak, she would.

Offended, Ron spoke, "So, how was Australia?"

She sighed with relief, "Hot." She laughed a bit, "My parents were furious with me."

He wanted to speak more of the events that happened months ago. He wanted to talk to her about the losses he went through, the funerals and the nights he couldn't sleep. He wanted her to open up. But he allowed her to go on, about Australia and the people she's met. He listened intently as she spoke of her days on the beach and the beauty of the sea. And as she paused he caught her eyes, just as she looked into his, and then he spoke;

"I missed you."

"I missed you too Ron."

To hear his name pass her lips caused him to smile. He knelt on his knees in front of her, held his arms out and welcomed her into his arms. Ron took in her warmth and floral smell. He could feel her arms wrap around his neck and they embraced.

"Is this one of those moments?" A familiar laugh filled the air.

"Harry, Ginny!" Hermione slipped off of Ron and hugged her best friends, the four of them sat down—and in moments, everything was comfortable again. Everything felt normal.


End file.
